


It Takes a Village

by Philyra



Series: Get ready for it [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Gen, Multi, Slice of Life, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philyra/pseuds/Philyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a lot to run a hockey team like a well-oiled machine. Luckily, Pepper has the best employees in the business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

“Ugh.” Her feet hit the floor and she winces at how cold the floor is getting. “Note to self: buy a fuzzy rug for winter,” she grumbles as she hunts for her rolling alarm clock on the floor. This time, it’s over by the laundry hamper. “How did you get over there, Bumper?”

The bathroom radio is set to the news. She likes mixing it up: Al-Jazeera one day, the BBC the next, and so on. When she’s feeling _really_ ambitious, she sets it to the Spanish and French new stations and lets them drone on in the background as she gets ready for her day. It’s an old habit: her grandpa always had NPR blaring in the morning while she was growing up.

“’It never hurts to be informed, Darcy girl,’” Darcy rumbles with a laugh, jumping in the shower. By the time she settles down for breakfast (coffee, granola, yogurt, and an apple), she’s finally ready to start looking over the social media feeds.

Christine made it clear very early on in her internship days that there had to be some separation from social media in her life. “I don’t even _look_ at the sports news until I get into the office,” she said, making a face. “If it’s that important, I expect a phone call and so should you. Nothing short of a media catastrophe should pull you out of bed, all right?”

It’s good advice, and Darcy has adhered to it over the years. After all, juggling the Knights’ Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and Vine as well as their associated quirks is no small feat. It usually takes her entire commute up to Tarrytown to go through the notifications and mentions that have happened overnight. As the Social Media coordinator, she spends most of her time around the team, though if she’s not traveling with them then she’s working at the Knights’ offices in Midtown.

On the subway, Darcy goes through her usual routine. On Twitter, she favorites a few tweets (even if their teams are mortal enemies, whoever runs the Mammoths’ Twitter account is hilarious, okay?), retweets a few more, and blocks a number of assholes who think they have something to say about her and the Knights. Rinse, lather, repeat.

By the time she arrives in Tarrytown, she’s ready to send off the first tweet of the day: _It’s Headshot Day! I’m betting @RealHowlett32 is going to be the grumpiest, any takers?_

The facility at Tarrytown hosts the Knights, the Knicks, and the Liberty. Darcy hangs a left from the lobby, smiling briefly at the miniature Stanley Cup that is now housed in the trophy case. The entrance to the Knights’ wing is a hallway lined in framed, retired Knights jerseys. Darcy’s favorite is the Peggy Carter jersey, number 13, that also hangs in the hallway. She salutes it as she passes by.

From that hallway, the wing splits in three directions: straight, to the weight, equipment, locker and shower rooms and the training rink, left to the player’s lounge and the video review room, and right to all the offices. Pepper’s office is dark, but that’s not a surprise seeing as today is not a practice day. Pepper tends to handle the more corporate aspects of running the Knights at the downtown office, but she likes working in Tarrytown when the players are there.

Christine, like Darcy, tends to work where the players are, so of course she’s in. Darcy pops her head into her office. “Morning, Christine!” she chirps.

She glances up from her computer. “Morning, Darcy. Anything I should know about from social media?”

“Nope,” she replies cheerfully. “Except that the Mammoth’s media strategy is so much better than it was last year, but that’s not really important. What about from the rest of the media world?”

“Don Cherry was spouting the same old tired rant. I think he’s still angry that Maria and Nat got to touch the cup, let alone hoist it.” She takes a sip of coffee. “I swear, one of these days…anyway, don’t you have a video shoot to get to? The photographers came in the same time I did, so setup should be finished.”

“On my way, just thought I’d check with you.” If the photographers are already set up, then the KTV crew shouldn’t be too far behind them.

Christine waves a hand. “Go, go. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Did you see any of the players as you were coming in?”

“No-“ Voices echo down the hallway and she leans out. “Scratch that, I just saw Maria and Mike go by.” They, of course, are on their way to the locker room to put on their jerseys for the shoot.

“Good. Now, shoo!”

The photographers have set up shop in the area just off the loading docks: it’s the only place besides the rink itself with a large amount of open space to set up backdrops and what looks like a turntable. “We’re putting players on that thing?” Darcy asks doubtfully as she comes up behind Ian, who’s fiddling with the camera.

“Yeah, the NHL wants some stock footage of the team looking solemn as they spin around. They’re sharing it with us, so we figure we can use it on some of our footage later on,” Miles explains. He grins impishly. “If there’s footage of players turning green, we can probably use that later on, too.”

She snickers. That sounds like the kind of footage that ends up in the mini clips that she posts on Twitter and Instagram. “Sounds good to me.”

“There you are, Darcy, you’re late!” Peter says, glancing up from his tablet. “Come on, we need to film your opening and closing sequences.”

“Screw you, Parker, I’m on time!”

He wrinkles his nose and pokes her on the forehead when she comes over to peer at the tablet. “Why do I deal with you again?” he wonders as she scans the script.

“That would be because I’m wonderful,” she says, pointing to herself in the chest before gesturing towards the camera. “And the camera loves me.”

Miles and Ian crack up like she’s the funniest thing in the world. “’Wonderful’ is one way to put it,” Miles muses as he comes over to fit her with the microphone and pack. She considers the merits of whacking him on the head with one of the boom mikes, but decides the dent in her paycheck isn’t worth it.

“You know you love me.”

“Love is relative,” is the wry response.

Darcy pats his cheek. “You know, you say that but I really don’t believe you.”

“Light check,” Ian announces, and Darcy goes where he directs her to make sure everything looks good on camera. After a few moments, he gives them the thumbs-up.

Peter watches the whole thing with a practiced eye. “Darcy, you got your lines? It’s okay if you flub them, we have all morning to do takes.”

“Please don’t take all morning,” Miles whines plaintively. Darcy rolls her eyes.

“Honestly, it’s like we’ve never worked together before. Let me know when I can go.”

Peter nods at Ian. He holds up his fingers, counting down.

Darcy instantly pastes a smile on her face. “Hello Knight’s fans, this is Darcy Lewis with Knights TV. There are a lot of things that go on behind the scenes in the lead up to the preseason, and one of those things isn’t something you’d think of off the top of your head. Remember those days back in elementary school when you got all dressed up and sat together with the class? That’s right, today the players are coming in and filming their headshots for the official Knight’s website. You may not know it, but they change every year and today we’re going to show you just what goes into taking those photos.”

“Cut,” Peter says with satisfaction. “Nice ad-libbing, Darcy. I actually like that better than the original script.”

“See? Wonderful.” She has a tendency to make things up on the fly after scanning Peter’s scripts, and if something goes wrong, that’s what editing is for.

Ian is already playing back the footage. “Yeah, this looks like a pretty good shot,” he agrees. “I don’t think we’ll have to do too many takes, though we should probably do a few more just to be sure.”

They do three more takes, but thanks to Darcy’s ad-libbing, the script changes a little bit each time. Towards the last take, her smile feels like it’s beginning to freeze on her face and even though she’s a pretty high energy person, there’s only so much she can do to keep that energy sustained consistently through each and every take. She doesn’t know how news anchors do it. Hell, she doesn’t know how actors manage. This is why she tends to be sympathetic when the NHL makes the players do ridiculous film segments during media days. It makes her all the more appreciative of Christine’s media strategy when it comes to the payers.

Just as they’re wrapping up the last take, Maria and Mike walk into the photography area with Christine. By the way her hands are moving, it’s clear that she’s explaining the whole process to them. Both Maria and Mike give the turntable the same dubious looks Darcy had earlier, which makes her feel better about her misgivings.

“Barton’s going to like that thing a little too much.” Maria’s voice drifts over to them. “And you’re going to be lucky if Storm doesn’t try pulling some kind of Captain Morgan pose.”

“Also, good luck getting Ben on there,” Mike adds. “You know how he is with motion sickness.”

Darcy turns and pokes Peter in the shoulder. “We definitely have to film Clint when he’s on the turntable. I bet you he’s going to handstands just for the hell of it.”

His eyes light up at the thought of it. “Deal.”

She turns back to her tablet to check Twitter – the tweet from this morning has been favorited and retweeted a number of times. There are a few replies as well, but Christine’s policy is that she shouldn’t respond unless it’s another team’s account or a player. Otherwise, she’s just supposed to favorite the tweet if it’s particularly nice.

There is one response from the Mammoth’s Twitter account: _We’ll take your @RealHowlett32 and raise you one @JConstantine. He’s taller._

Darcy presses her hand over her mouth to laugh. John Constantine is one cantankerous bastard and a great defenseman, but she’ll take Logan in front of the net all day long.

It doesn’t take long for her to formulate a response, walking over to Maria and Mike as she does so. _@JConstantine might be taller, but who has a better plus/minus?_ She might not be a stats genius like Maya, but she _is_ a sports journalist and she damn well knows her team’s figures backwards and forwards.

Maria raises an eyebrow when she notices Darcy. “Is someone wrong on the Internet again?”

“Yes, whoever runs the Mammoth’s Twitter account is dead wrong and I was simply informing them of their error,” she replies, putting the tablet away and skipping over to thread her arm through Maria’s. “They should know better than to pit anyone on their team against ours when we’re clearly the best.”

Mike nods solemnly. “This is true.”

“So long as you’re being polite about it,” Christine says, but there’s no real warning in her voice. It’s been a long time since she’s had to vet anything Darcy put on the Internet. The Knights have one of the largest followings on social media amongst NHL teams and that’s largely due to Darcy’s freewheeling, informal style. Whilst the Knights are very particular about the narrative they present to the public* at large, Darcy has plenty of freedom to work within those constraints and still be fun, rather than stilted.

Darcy grins. “Please, I’m _always_ polite about it.”

“Debatable,” Maria deadpans. She only shrugs when Darcy turns wide, wounded eyes on her. “But you get a free pass because it’s the Mammoths.”

“See, we understand each other.” That accord had been a little baffling to some of the others at first. They didn’t expect Darcy, who was usually bubbly and overly sarcastic, to get along well with their cool and contained new center.

But unlike many of the other members of staff, Darcy is in a unique place to be both friend and support while still working together. It’s Darcy’s job to make sure that everyone appreciates everything Maria is and everything she’s done and, well…she’s really good at talking about her friends.

“So, resting bitch face: yes or no?”

“Try gameday face,” Maria replies without skipping a beat, batting Darcy’s hands away from her jersey. “It’s more intimidating.” She watches as Mike takes a few regular headshots before hopping onto the rotating turntable.

“Should I cross my arms?” they hear him ask the photographer.

“Whatever helps you get into character. We’re only going to be filming you from about the elbow up, so it won’t be obvious.”

Mike’s a veteran, so his turn is over in a matter of moments. Other players file in and soon there’s a queue, leaving the players to talk and chirp amongst themselves. They have video review after lunch, so there’s really no pressing need to go anywhere else. Ian drifts around with the camera on, taking candid shots to fill out the video later on.

Logan stomps in and makes a beeline for Darcy, his trademark scowl on his face. “You’re making all my notifications go up, girlie.”

“That’s a good thing, considering that you never have any activity on your Twitter feed,” she explains reasonably, reaching over to adjust his collar. “Take my advice: post pictures or videos of your cat. People will love it.” Logan’s cat Rogue is a Maine Coone, and every bit as affectionate as her owner is taciturn. He always brings her for the rescue animal photo shoot, regardless of whether or not she’s going to be in the photo with him.

His frown deepens. “I ain’t posting anything with my cat.”

“Shame,” Christine comments as she walks by. “I think that would be a good idea. People love seeing athletes and their pets.”

“And anyway, I’ve been defending your honor,” Darcy tells him. “The Mammoth’s Twitter keeps trying to pit you against John Constantine when you’re obviously better.”

Logan smirks a little bit. “Damn right.” He pulls out his phone and glances at it. “Should I say something, then?” His fingers fly over the screen because for all that he complains about new technology, he’s actually pretty good at handling it.

One of Darcy’s notifications chimes. She glances down. _@JConstantine @NHLKnights @MammothsNHL Best plus/minus at our next game. Loser buys drinks._

Her tablet chimes again. _@RealHowlett32 @NHLKnights @MammothsNHL Deal. Better save up, Howlett._

Oh lord. She should have realized that Logan would do something like that, and that John Constantine wouldn’t be able to resist taking him up on it. “That wasn’t exactly what I was going for, Logan, but it’s not bad so I’ll let it slide for once.”

He waves his phone at her. “What are you complaining about? You’re the one always telling me to use the damn thing and I am!”

“But maybe challenging a team rival over social media isn’t the best idea, right?” Darcy argues. Honestly. Professional athletes are always so competitive. “You’d better make sure we win, Logan.”

“As if there was any question,” he says dismissively, walking off towards the line.

Arms wrap around her from behind, lifting her off the ground. “What’s Logan done this time?” Clint’s rich, warm voice echoes all around her.

Her hands go up to his forearms because well, it’s not like she’s ever going to pass up an opportunity to grope Clint’s arms.

Truth be told, she’s not one to pass up on spending any amount of time with Clint, period. He’s one of her best friends on the team and it’s been that way from the beginning, when he sat beside her on the plane, plucked one of the earbuds out of her ear, and settled down for the rest of the flight. When she flirts, he flirts back. Sometimes he’s endearingly awkward about it, stuttering over his words, while other times he makes her feel like she’s burning from the inside out.

It’s actually very confusing. He’d been dating Bobbi when Darcy started as an intern, so he’d earned a firm spot on her Off-Limits list. But the pair fizzled out not long after, and the flirting between Darcy and Clint never really let up.

But then there’s Nat. She and Clint have a freaky twin thing going on both on and off the ice and Darcy’s not entirely sure if it’s platonic or not. She wouldn’t blame Clint for falling for Nat – they have so much in common. Like Clint, Nat is an orphan and was raised in a Russian orphanage until someone realized just how good she was at hockey. They hang out all the time and have all sorts of deep conversations that she’s just not privy to.

Also, Nat’s gorgeous and an amazing hockey player. Heck, _Darcy_ has no problem admitting she has a tiny crush on Nat, too.

So, confusion. So much confusion because she doesn’t know if she should still like him the way she has for a very long time, or to put him back on the Off-Limits list.

“Oh nothing,” she tells him, going limp so he’ll swing her around. And because Clint is Clint, he gets the hidden message and obliges. She shrieks with laughter. “Just messing around on Twitter. We need to make sure we win next time against the Mammoths.”

“Can do. Hey, is that a turntable? Please tell me someone’s been striking ridiculous poses on top of it.”

“I’m working on convincing Thor to Vogue on top of it, does that count?” A bunch of groans erupt and sure enough, Johnny’s doing bodybuilding poses from on top of the machine. “Hang on a second.” She breaks away from Clint’s embrace (rather reluctantly, of course) and goes up to snap a photo on her phone. This one goes on Instagram. _Clearly Johnny has another calling besides hockey. #bodybuilding #wowlookatthosemuscles #whatisthatpose_

That post has over one hundred likes within the hour.

“Darcy.” Peter jogs over and does some complicated secret handshake with Clint that has her rolling her eyes. When they finish, he’s grinning. “Let’s shoot the voiceovers for the clip in the studio. It should be quick and we can leave Miles and Ian with the team.”

“Sure thing.”

The KTV team has a pretty cozy set-up in their shared office. They call it a studio because there is a soundproofed booth in the corner made for this specific purpose. There’s a small soundboard in front of it, and the three desks in the room are home to high-powered computers with three monitors each for video editing. Though Peter mainly functions as the video director and reporter and Ian and Miles handle the equipment, all three of the men are well versed in each others' roles and are equally adept at editing footage for the channel.

“Script?” Darcy asks as they walk in. Peter hands her his tablet and she goes into the booth, slipping the headphones over her ears.

They’re old pros at this by now. She waits for his signal and repeats the lines, adding her own little flare. After a few recordings, Peter flashes her a thumbs up and she comes out of the booth. “All good?” she queries, handing him back his tablet.

“All good, Darcy. Thanks.”

When they get back to the team, Clint is on the turntable and is, as predicted, doing a handstand. Not only that, but he’s doing push-ups as the thing is turning. Darcy’s phone is out and recording in a second. “That’s definitely going on Vine,” she announces to no one in particular. She’s a little put out that the jerseys are long-sleeved, but someone seems to be watching out for her because the jersey slides down, showing a delightfully toned stomach. Hot damn.

After a few rotations, he does a little twist and flip and lands on his feet. All that gymnastics training certainly has come in handy, Darcy thinks, tilting her head and staring appreciatively.

“Enjoying the show?” Nat says in her ear. Darcy jumps a foot in the air and makes a horrifically embarrassing noise that has everyone turning around and staring.

“Damn it, Nat!” Thank goodness she’d stopped recording. Wow, being caught ogling your friend’s maybe boyfriend is not a good thing. “I mean…who wouldn’t?”

“Indeed.” Green eyes twinkle merrily back at her. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Um.” Is that a warning? There is another strange factor to the Clint and Nat relationship: namely, one James Buchanan Barnes. He’s been head over heels for Nat from the start and she seems pretty receptive of his advances…but then there’s the way she is with Clint. And Nat is the last person to ever lead anyone on. It’s enough to make Darcy’s head hurt.

Nat pats her arm. “My turn. I’m hoping my glare will break the camera. John Constantine has nothing on me.”

That much was true, and even Constantine admitted it after a particularly vicious fight with Nat where she came out victorious. Actually, Nat has a tendency to be victorious in all her fights, mostly because her opponents constantly underestimate her.

To quote Mr. T: “I pity the fool.”

Clint bounces over to her. “So, did you see me?”

“I did, thank you for doing it for the Vine,” she laughs.

“But I didn’t do it for the Vine! I was doing it for-“ He cuts himself off and looks away.

“Doing it for what?” Darcy asks, oblivious. Nat has finished her pictures, hopped onto the turntable, and is glaring down the camera. She’s pretty sure the photographer is terrified. “To show up Johnny?”

He snorts. “Why would I need to show up Storm?”

“Good point.” Her stomach growls. “Wait, how has the morning gone by so fast?”

Clint shrugs. “I don’t know, but catering is set up in the player’s lounge.”

“Darcy.” Christine appears at her side, looking extremely apologetic. “I know you were just meant to be covering the headshots for today, but I have an emergency meeting with some of the NHL media and promotions people and I need you there.”

Meetings with NHL people are never good. “Media day was last week, what do they want?” Alexander Pierce is notorious for sticking his nose in team business regardless of whether or not it is under the NHL’s purview. If there is a meeting with the NHL’s people, it probably means that they are going to try and make a move for more access when they really don’t have a right to it. There is a reason why Pepper and all of the other owners lobbied to ensure that the organizations had complete control over who they hired for their media and PR staff, rather than allow the NHL to provide them. It made sure that the staff was loyal to the team’s interests and not the NHL’s.

Christine scowls. “Hell if I know. Nothing good.”

She makes a point of cracking her knuckles and stretching. “All right, let me at ‘em.”

It was a good thing she’d dressed for filming, in a smart skirt suit and a cute printed blouse. If she isn’t working downtown or scheduled to be on camera, she is usually wearing jeans and some sort of Knight’s apparel. Working for the team definitely has its perks because she can get all the merchandise at a massively discounted price. Needless to say, she is her nephew’s favorite because there is always one new signed item come Christmas.

Christine heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” She motions back towards where the players are still congregated around the backdrop set-up. “Do you have everything you need from here? They’re going to be breaking soon for lunch.”

“You know I do,” is the cheerful reply. She always makes sure that she has more than enough material to work with. It isn’t like Pepper and Christine expect her to post something every hour of every day – but Darcy gathers material like she needs to anyway because it makes sense to have a large amount to choose from, especially if there are slow days. It is why she has her own souped up phone and tablet on top of her personal cell phone, because data storage is a nightmare.

“Great.” Christine checks her watch. “We have fifteen minutes until they arrive, so let’s go to my office and come up with a quick game plan, all right?”

“Right with you.” She waves at Clint, who makes an exaggerated sad face. “Later, Barton. You owe me food!”

“Wait, what? It’s not my responsibility to feed you, Darce!” His words echo after her as she scrambles after Christine. Honestly, she has no idea how Christine and Pepper manage to walk so quickly in those sky-high heels. She has a hard enough time just walking in regular heels. Luckily, she is friends with hockey players with very fast reflexes. She can’t count the number of times someone on the team has stopped her from faceplanting. Thor often jokes that he needs to just carry her around – a prospect that she has seriously considered more than once (What? Thor can carry her piggyback the entire day and not even notice).

Not one, but two hours later, the meeting is finally finished. The meeting itself had only been about an hour, but there had been enough delicate negotiation and outright maneuvering that they’d called Pepper to give her an update just so that she could head off any possible arguments from Alexander Pierce.

The topic? A “long road to the Stanley Cup” style documentary focusing on the Knight’s rebuilding, starting from Pepper’s takeover and adding in crucial moments like Maria and Nat’s signing, and of course ending with them winning the Stanley Cup at the end of last season. Both Christine and Darcy had firmly argued that such a production was best handled by the Knight’s organization, as the KTV crew had a great deal of “backstage” footage as it were. It would also be easier for the KTV crew to arrange interviews with the team and staff. All they needed from the NHL was game footage, which they had anyway.

Of course, the NHL’s media team hadn’t liked the idea, citing the fact that the longest clips the crew handled were twenty minutes long. How would they be able to handle a documentary? Darcy pointed out that the segments in question were already filmed documentary-style, complete with professional voiceovers from an actor in the city.

Eventually, the NHL media people had backed off, on the condition that the Knights had to have a prototype script to be approved within the month.

The moment Christine closes the video conference with Pepper, she slumps back in her seat, absently rubbing her forehead. “What a nightmare,” she mumbles. “And it’s only been a few months since the Cup win, there’s still going to be a lot of Cup related media.”

“Hence them moving in with this.” Darcy’s already removed her jacket, and her heels are forgotten somewhere on the floor. “But we’re right about wanting to do this ourselves, right?”

“Of course we are.” Christine purses her lips, tapping her pen against her desk. “Especially when it comes to talking about Maria and Nat. It was Pepper’s idea. The Knights were the ones to bring the idea of female players and integration forward to the NHL. There’s no way we can allow them to control that part of the narrative because they’ll try to take credit for it. Worst of all, they’d probably frame it stupidly. For that reason alone, it needs to be ours.”

Darcy nods. Alexander Pierce is not a progressive thinker by any means. Darcy shudders to think about what he would say in an interview concerning such a thing. “And the rebuild was an organization-wide effort, so it stands to reason why we need to control how we show it.”

“Exactly.” The blonde rubs her eyes. “Ugh. I need to tell the KTV guys so we can start. I expect Peter and I will be scripting and storyboarding.”

“That journalism background certainly is handy.”

Christine snorts. “Yes, but who thought I’d need to use it in this way?” She waves a hand. “Anyway, you should go. You’ve gone above and beyond today. You should head on home and get some food. Watch Netflix or something.”

Darcy perks up immediately at the mention of food. Breakfast now seems like a distant memory and they’d skipped lunch to deal with the NHL people. “Oh man. I feel like I could give Thor a run for his money at a buffet right now.”

“Now that is something I would pay to see. Seriously, _go._ ”

“I’m going, I’m going!” she laughs as she bounces out of the room. The first place she checks is the player’s lounge, on the off chance that there is some leftover food from lunch. They always order extra because _hockey players_ but then the staff gets a crack at it. But of course, because the universe is conspiring against her, the tables are completely empty. Her stomach gives a pitiful little growl and Darcy drags her feet down to her office, wondering where she should stop off to get some food.

Her office light is on as she approaches, which is weird because she definitely turned it off in the morning. A rich, savory aroma hits her as soon as she steps in, and she blinks because Clint is sitting at the chair in front of her desk, dressed in street clothes and fiddling with his phone. The delicious smell is coming from the box perched on top of her desk. “Barton?” she queries, coming up to stand beside him. “What are you doing here? Hasn’t everyone left already?”

He tips his head back to look at her and shrugs. “Yeah, but I saw that you and Christine were still in your meeting so I thought I’d get some food for us.”

She flips open the box to reveal…are those deep fried Twinkies? “Clinton Francis Barton!” she scolds. “These are so contraband it’s not even funny! How did you get these on the premises without Carol tackling you to the ground?” Carol has a sixth sense for when the team hasn’t been sticking to the meal plans, and Darcy has become her co-conspirator in rooting out all the hidden snack caches that pop up at the facility. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete or something?”

“Well they’re not really for me now, are they?” he drawls, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes her knees go all wobbly. “I mean, if you eat them that means I won’t be tempted to break my nutrition plan at all.”

Darcy’s already cramming one of them in her mouth. Her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head at the deep-fried, sweet and cakey goodness. “You are a dirty, dirty cheat,” she informs him, sinking down to perch against the edge of her desk.

“You love it,” Clint laughs, slouching down further in the chair. Darcy tries not to pay attention to the way his jeans cling to his legs but it’s a struggle because _hockey thighs._ Honestly, this man is going to be the death of her because he can be so unconsciously sexy sometimes that it takes all her strength not to bite him. But then he’ll do something stupid like miss the door completely during a line change and have to crawl over the boards. “Besides, we can’t have you hungry when you start tweeting people back. You get mean when you’re hungry and Pepper likes snarky, not mean.”

That statement causes her to pause, eyeing him thoughtfully. She had no idea he paid that much attention to her. Sure, they’re buddies and all, but… “Thanks, bud,” she says softly, nudging him with her toe. “I appreciate it.”

His eyes dart up to hers and hold them. Sometimes she forgets how very blue his eyes are, not dark like the Knight’s jerseys, but bright like the sky on a summer’s day or something horrifically cliché like that.

She’s waxing poetic about his _eyes_. Oh no. She has it bad, even worse than she thought. At this rate, she’s going to have to request a trade to the Oilers or something like that. Except she doesn’t _want_ to go to Edmonton, okay, she’s been there before in the ass-end of winter and it had taken her weeks to thaw-

Warm fingers curl around her knee. “Everything okay, Darce?”

Her heart beats staccato in her chest at the way he shortens her name. Lots of people do, it’s not like the nickname is particularly special. The way he says it, though? Yeah, that’s what’s special. “Nothing,” she rasps, watching the way he swallows at the sound of it. “Everything’s perfect.”

“Great.” He motions towards the box. “Come on, eat up and let’s get you home.”

“You’re on.”


	2. Betty

The plane touches down in Saskatoon at a horrifically early hour. Betty peers out the window, groaning slightly when all she sees is blue-tinged snow as far as the eye can see. She gets it, she honestly does: winter plus Canada equals snow, and their seven-day circus trip through the western provinces and the Pacific Northwest is going to be full of it (except for Vancouver and Seattle, thank the hockey gods). Betty was born and raised in Minnesota, for crying out loud. She grew up with the cliché hockey childhood of skating on frozen ponds for a good portion of the winter.

That still does not mean she enjoys freezing her ass off, thank you very much. There are days when she longingly thinks about having accepted the job in Florida, but then she remembers that working with a Florida team doesn't mean staying in Florida all the time. Besides, she doesn't think she can handle those summers.

The players and other staff stir around her, and there are a few grumbles as some get up to change back into their suits. A few muffled giggles means that _someone's_ been pranked, and it's only a matter of time before they find out whom.

Wade stirs in the seat beside her. "So what's the verdict, Doc?" he asks, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Wade, oddly enough, is one of the few players who often wears his suit for the entire flight. On planes, he falls asleep deeply and doesn't even twitch.

If she had a nickel for every time a player asked her that question, she'd be rich. Honestly, they're like children sometimes. "I told you we'd check your knee once we arrive at the arena, all right Wade? Not a second sooner. I know you're itching to get your partner back-"

"Hey, Maximoff is good, eh?" Wade shrugs. "I'm glad he was called up." He flashes her a toothy grin. "It's just that tonight is the Wasps, and I always want to give them a warm hello."

Sometimes Wade willfully forgets that he's a very skilled defenseman and not a goon. Luckily, Coulson knows when to use that to his advantage when he's directing defense, usually in coordination with Melinda to pull off some spectacular play using Wade as a distraction. And Wade, being Wade, always _delights_ in being a distraction. According to Darcy, there's a fan Twitter account called _What Will Wade Do Next?_

But he's probably not going to play that role tonight, she thinks, glancing down to Wade's leg. Thankfully, the ligament was only pulled, not torn and hadn't required surgery, but it had still kept him out longer than anyone would have liked. Still, he was right and Pietro Maximoff, newly called up from the Commandos after only being drafted the year before, was proving to be a highly capable replacement.

Still, it's always hard when a core member of your defense is missing. Even with Pietro called up, he's not playing the same number of minutes as Wade would, which means the burden falls on the other defensemen to make up for the time lost.

Betty cleared Wade for the trip, knowing that he would be ready at least halfway through the trip if not by the end. "We'll see," she tells him before turning her gaze out towards the window once more. They'll have a few hours to nap before the team needs to get to the arena for a short skate and practice, then one more nap break before the game itself. She fully intends to rest up for what promises to be an intense game against the Wasps. While the rivalry is not on par with, say, the Mammoths, Blades, or Serpents, it still comes pretty darn close. She's definitely expecting a fair number of minor injuries tonight.

Scott storms out of the tiny airplane bathroom. "Goddamn it, guys!" he roars, startling several people awake, while the rest of the team collapses with laughter. "Are we in fucking juniors again?"

Because someone's seen fit to give him a full makeover, including blush, eyeshadow, and liner. In Sharpie.

Betty sighs and reaches for the baby wipes. Hockey players.

* * *

 

Christine has been Betty's road roommate since the reporter was hired to take over the Knights' media and PR department. It's an arrangement that has worked well for them, as they're not quite keen to share rooms with the younger staff members in their department, especially if they sometimes go out with the players after games.

Because it's a longer road trip, they have brought along more of their staff. For Christine, that means Ian, Peter, Miles, and Darcy, and for Betty that means her assistant physician, Gwen Stacy, and the team massage therapist, Cameron Klein. Other staff members on the trip include all the coaches, Carol and Bobbi, Victoria, Nick, Hank and his staff, and even Pepper. Needless to say, the plane has been packed.

Christine flops onto the bed with a sigh. "Is the day over yet?" she groans, throwing a hand over her eyes. Betty chuckles, carefully unpacking the clothes she needs for the day. The rest stays neatly stowed away in her suitcase since they'll be moving on to Vancouver tomorrow.

"You know the answer's always no until it's actually the end of the day."

"Ugh." Christine checks her watch. "Okay, I have to take advantage of this nap time before we get to the arena." Because while the players might have naptime after practice, there's no such thing for the staff. In fact, Hank and his crew have already gone ahead to Pym Arena to set up the guest locker room with all the equipment the team is going to need for practice and later, the game.

Betty quickly follows her example and lays down to sleep. On a road trip, one learns to fall asleep as quickly as possible, whenever possible. It's the only way to stay sane when you're dealing with countless flights and back-to-back games.

* * *

 

Hours later, Betty is at the arena and in one of the medical examination rooms with Gwen, Melinda, and Wade. Wade is sitting on the examination table in shorts and t-shirt, while Betty is sitting on a stool with Gwen hovering just behind her. Melinda stands just inside the door; her arms crossed and eyes intent on Betty's movements.

After a series of pokes, prods, and mild exercises, Betty sits back, eyebrows raised. This job just continues to surprise her. "Well, I thought you wouldn't be able to play until Seattle, but it looks like you'll be able to skate tonight, Wade," she proclaims.

"Really?" he says with glee.

"Really," she confirms with a smile.

He turns to Melinda. "Aw, can I, Coach? Pleeeeeeease?"

Melinda's lips just barely twitch. "Get suited up and we'll see how you do during the skate and practice," she decides. "And don't you even dare try to overdo it, Wilson. The last thing we need is for you to get injured again."

Wade hops off the examining table. "I got it, Coach!" And then he proceeds to pick up Betty and Gwen and swing them around, which is definitely not within Betty's definition of not overdoing things. Wade dodges around Melinda (he knows better than to do that to her, she can and will make him do Herbies) and takes off down the hallway, whooping wildly the entire way.

Gwen muffles her giggles behind a hand. "He's certainly lively."

"Lively is one word for it," Melinda drawls. She nods at them. "Thanks Betty, Gwen. Looks like I have to chat with Phil and Jasper again."

The next few hours are spent going over or, in Gwen's case, catching up on paperwork. Gwen's a new hire, straight from her residency, and Betty wants her to be familiar with the players' medical history before she tackles some of the bigger tasks, like performing physicals. So far, she's proven to be a levelheaded, no-nonsense person who is simultaneously completely _not_ star-struck with the players but respectful of their ability. In Betty's opinion, it's a good balance to have. The last thing she needs is someone who is easily swayed by a player begging to get back on the ice, or intimidated by coaching staff.

Not that Melinda, Jasper, or Phil would ever do that. They know very well not to argue with Betty about those things – it was a sticking point during her job interview for the Knights.

_"Thank you, Dr. Ross," Pepper said with a smile. "I think that concludes all of our question for the interview. Is there anything you would like to ask us?"_

_Betty chewed her bottom lip for a moment. Part of her was reluctant to bring it up, but she'd seen a number of horrible things working in the CHL and she didn't care if it cost her the job. This was where she had to make her stand. "Yes, I do, actually. How likely are you to listen to me when I say that a player needs to get off the ice and_ stay _off the ice?"_

_Pepper, Melinda, and Nick exchanged glances, but it was all too quick for her to catch. "Would you care to elaborate on that question, Dr. Ross?" Melinda asks politely. "Perhaps provide some context so that we can understand?"_

_"It's just…I've had experiences when coaches have gone against my judgment before. I've said that players needed time off the ice to heal, but then they're either back in the game and playing or returning to practice much sooner than I'd recommended. Ninety five percent of the time this has resulted in further injury to the player." Betty can feel herself getting fired up now because those were teenagers –_ boys _, really, and those injuries could have been avoided if someone had just listened to her. And some of the boys will never make the show because of complications. "If someone asks for my expert, medical opinion I expect it to be heeded, not for it to simply fly one ear and out the other. The health and safety of these players is my responsibility, and I take it very seriously. And if that's not taken seriously, then this is not the place for me."_

_She realized that her fingers have curled tightly around the arms of her chair, her nails digging into the soft padding. She flushed slightly. Dammit. She'd probably botched the interview – and she_ wants _to work with the Knights. It seems somewhat controversial, since they've just fired her father, but she believes that Pepper Potts is exactly what the organization needs._

_But this is the hill she'll die on. She got into sports medicine so that she could_ help _athletes, not hurt them._

_"On the contrary, Dr. Ross, I think this is exactly the place for you," Nick said solemnly, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Melinda was smiling, and Pepper was outright beaming._

_"Exactly," Pepper announced with satisfaction. "We need someone who will think about the players first and will do whatever's necessary to keep them healthy."_

_"And I can promise you that there will be no pressure from me or my coaching staff, Dr. Ross," Melinda promised. "I would never, ever want my players to be out for so stupid a reason as not listening to the team doctor."_

_Betty smiled with relief. She'd heard so many good things about Melinda's coaching style, but it's another thing to have it confirmed. And for Pepper and Nick to approve as well…honestly, she can't think of anything better._

_"I think it's safe to say that you're very welcome on the Knights, Dr. Ross."_

Gwen makes a slight noise, directing Betty's attention back to the present. "Something interesting, Gwen?"

"Yes, I was just looking through Pietro Maximoff's notes. I didn't realize he's in the process of approval for receiving a diabetic assistance dog."

She nods. "They're in the process of choosing dogs now. I'm excited about it, actually." She'd been cautious when the team first drafted Maximoff, knowing full well that he had Type 1 diabetes, the dog trainers, and other doctors in the hockey community who had experience with the disease, she'd felt much better. "There's precedent for it, and an assistance dog will make it much easier for us to monitor his blood sugar levels."

Gwen smiles. "I had a friend in med school who had a diabetic assistance dog. She always said he was the best thing that could have happened to her, so I can imagine how it will be for Pietro."

Cameron knocks on the door and pokes his head in. "Hey docs, just letting you know I'm finished with my round here."

"Anything of note?" Betty asks.

He shakes his head. All of his curls are tucked beneath a Knights toque, so he must still be feeling the cold. "Some stiff muscles, nothing a little massage and then skating won't loosen up. Everyone seems to be in good shape." He grins. "Including Wade."

"And he'd better stay that way." Betty always has to give a talk at training camp, where she lets the players know that she has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to hiding injuries. If she even gets a _whiff_ that someone is trying to hide something, they're out for at least a game, if not more depending on the actual injury. Melinda and the other staff are always quick to back her up, and Carol and Bobbi are especially helpful at pointing out little things that can rapidly escalate.

Luckily, the team veterans and leadership are also serious about following her instructions, and make sure that the rookies don't hurt themselves by pushing too hard, too fast. Under this kind of program, the Knights have boasted one of the healthiest rosters in the league.

Over lunch break, her phone rings and she smiles automatically at the name on the display, ducking out into the hallway. "Hello, Bruce."

"Hi Betty." The affection in his voice is clear, even over the fuzzy connection and the continent between them. "Have I caught you at a bad time?"

She leans against the wall, crossing one ankle in front of the other. "No, not at all. Gwen and I have just been going over some paperwork. Wade might actually skate tonight."

"Oh really?" He sounds wryly amused. "I bet you're thrilled about that."

"So long as he doesn't go right back to be injured." She sighs. "I miss you. How's New York?"

"Not as nice as it is when you're here."

His voice sparks a warm feeling in her stomach. She and Bruce had dated in college, when he was playing in the NCAA and she was in premed. Betty had sworn never to date a hockey player, and yet she'd fallen head over heels for him from day one. Perhaps it was because she'd never met a hockey player who would voluntarily choose physics as a major ("Goalie," Bruce had explained with a shrug). Or she'd never met anyone like Bruce, period.

Unfortunately, their romance hadn't lasted long once the Kings drafted him. It was too difficult with him in LA and her at Johns Hopkins, so their breakup had been a mutual decision. Betty had made sure to keep tabs on him from afar though, watching his rise and then his subsequent fall. She'd thought about reaching out to him, but she'd been so busy with her own career, and then he'd seemed to be doing just fine on his own coaching in the USHL.

But the Knights had brought them back together and for that she was unspeakably grateful. She'd come close to marrying someone else in the interim, but she'd come to realize Bruce was simply it for her. Luckily, he felt exactly the same way and they picked up right where they left off.

"But I'm probably warmer than you are," Bruce continues and she giggles because yes, he probably is. The arena doesn't seem to be heated at all, and she'd seriously contemplated wearing gloves in the office earlier.

"Shut up. Anyway, aren't you with the Riveters today?"

"I am." There's some static as he jostles the phone and suddenly she can hear a chorus of muffled feminine voices and the scrape of skates on the ice. "We're trying out some Stark tech today, so I have Jane and Skye with me. They say hello."

When the NWHL started, Pepper had been one of the first to contact Dani Rylan and offer any of her services for the New York team, provided the NHL was in agreement. Bruce is one of several members of staff who goes over to work with the Riveters when they're not working with the Knights. Bruce actually splits his time between the Knights, the Commandos, and the Riveters. It's the kind of work he loves, and he's been especially excited at the prospect of training goalies like Sharon Carter and Nana Fujimoto.

"Tell them I say hi back."

They chat a little while longer before Bruce is called back to work. Betty hangs up reluctantly. By virtue of who she is, she's with the team everywhere they go, which means that she'll go for days at a time without seeing him. It's difficult, but they both love their jobs and can't see themselves doing anything else. But they make it work, as does everyone who manages family, friends, and relationships in this business.

At least one thing can be said for the road trips: they make the homestands that much sweeter.

* * *

 

Honestly. She's going kill them, each and every one of them. It's not a game against any of their actual rivals, although the Knights did defeat the Wasps to win the Stanley Cup, so. Maybe she understands that kind of deep-seated anger and resentment.

Still, that doesn't mean she's going to like it when her players get hurt. Especially when it comes from something as avoidable as fighting. "Looks like you're going to have to go to the dentist. Again," she sighs, watching as Ben wiggles the tooth with his fingers. She holds out the plastic sample tub and winces as he pops it out and drops it in. She is so very glad she's not a dentist. Teeth, in her medical opinion, are gross.

"Maybe it's time for me to just get the rest yanked out, huh?" he muses. "Then I can just get a full set of dentures and I wouldn't have to wear them during games!"

"Man, no one's going to understand a damn thing you're saying without dentures!" Sam tells him, his own words slightly unintelligible around his mouthguard. Ben makes a thoughtful noise and Betty just rolls her eyes fondly, slipping the container into her first aid bag to give to him later. For all she knows, he has a shrine to all the teeth he's lost to hockey. Or maybe he sells it on eBay (though, knowing Matt and Jen, probably not).

Maria manages to tie it up for them with a beauty of a power play goal. Betty never gets tired of watching her skate. She'd gotten as far as middle school before she quit hockey, but she's been around the sport her entire life and she knows a generational player when she sees one. The Knights wouldn't have made it to the Stanley Cup without her.

Suddenly there's a roar, and everyone on the bench is on his or her feet. Betty cranes her neck around and – oh, Bucky is skating to the bench, bleeding from the chin. "Just a puck to the chin, doc, m'okay. Just rang my bell a little," he mumbles, coming straight up to Betty for inspection.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" she asks skeptically. She nods at Melinda and Gwen, and then motions for Bucky to follow them back to the examining room.

Gwen takes over the examination, cleaning the blood from his chin. It's a jagged cut, and bleeding sluggishly, with some swelling around the entire area. She runs careful fingers over his jaw before eventually declaring, "No breaks or dislocations, it's just a cut."

Betty nods. Years of experience told her the same thing way back at the bench, but Gwen is the one in training. "Good. What would you recommend?"

"Local anesthetic, stitch and disinfect, give mild painkillers if needed, and send him back on the ice," Gwen says confidently. Bucky nods in agreement.

"Good. Then hop to it. I'll meet you back on the bench."

A few minutes later, Bucky swaggers out with a neat line of stitches on his chin. "What do you think, Nat? The scar will enhance my ruggedly good looks, eh?"

The redhead rolls her eyes. "Your face is already ugly, so why would a scar matter?" The bench erupts in laughter and Bucky pouts exaggeratedly until Melinda sends his line back onto the ice.

Things don't even bother slowing down after that. Betty and Gwen are back in the examining room during the second period intermission, this time with Scott, stripped down to his Under Armor shirt and boxers. He's lying on the table, one arm draped over his eyes and wincing with pain with every touch. Melinda is standing in the doorway once again, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"It's a minor muscle contusion," Betty confirms. "Rest, ice, compression, and elevation, and he'll be fine for Vancouver."

"It doesn't feel minor," Scott complains. All three women wince in sympathy because the injury could have been much, much worse. Scott had gone in hard towards the net, trying to nab a rebound, then lost his footing and slammed into the post. The pain had been so intense he'd had to be helped off the ice.

"He can't make it worse though, right?" Melinda queries. "Since it's just a bruise?"

"Well, no," Betty admits, knowing where this is going and hating it, but… "Provided that he doesn't collide with the post. Or the boards. Or someone doesn't crash into him or slash him right there." Really, there are about a million ways it could go wrong. But at the end of the day, he won't hurt himself more by just playing. "He will be in a lot of pain if he does play," she cautions.

Scott removes his arm from his eyes and is looking at Melinda curiously. "Coach?" he ventures.

She holds up a hand. "Quiet. I'm debating the merits of keeping you in versus taking you out."

Scott is a veteran. He's seasoned enough to know to read his body's signals and when to take a rest. He is, however, still a professional athlete and would be more than willing to go out and play if Melinda asks that of him.

Finally, she exhales. "I need you better for Vancouver and Seattle more than I need you to play out the rest of tonight, Scott. Take the rest, all right? I'll just make sure that the other centers can cover your line."

He nods, somewhat relieved, and drops his head back to the examining table. "Will do, Coach."

Betty nods at Gwen to start the treatment and follows Melinda out. "Ben's tooth, Bucky's face, and now Scott's leg…I really don't like this arena. It's also too damn cold," Melinda grumbles.

"Careful, wouldn't want to jinx anything," she responds with a slight smile. But this has certainly been one of her busiest nights this year…and they haven't even faced the Serpents yet.

Despite keeping Scott out, the Knights manage to maintain their lead in the third period. Steve, Maria, and Bobby, as the remaining centers, have to be exhausted by splitting their responsibilities between two lines, but they rise to the challenge and it's not like they haven't practiced or even played scenarios like this before.

The minutes are winding down and the Knights are that close to taking the win when it happens. Logan, of all people, takes a hit from behind and goes full-speed into the boards, head first.

For the first few breathless seconds, he doesn't move. Betty immediately signals that the arena medical staff needs to get out onto the ice, stat, and then she's jumping over the boards herself to get to him. Every step of the way, she prays that it's not a concussion, but he's not _moving-_

But then his legs twitch and Betty's shoving players out of the way. "Logan, can you hear me? It's Dr. Ross." She motions for Gwen to help her carefully roll him over so that she can start checking him over. "Logan, do you know where you are?"

He stirs, blinking at the flashlight as she checks pupil response. "Doc?" he mumbles. "M'okay. Just gotta-"

"Go to the hospital and get checked out, yes," Betty cuts in because she never, ever takes chances with concussions.

Logan regains enough of his faculties to start arguing the moment they get him into the ambulance. "Doc, I don't need this!" he growls. "I can sit out the rest of the game-"

"You know better than to argue with me, Logan Howlett," Betty says evenly, watching with an eagle eye as the paramedics check him over. "This is for your own good, so if you even want a _chance_ at playing the next game you will let these nice people do their jobs and do the same for me."

Logan's known her since she came to the team, so he does know a losing battle when he sees one. Still, it doesn't stop him from protesting because he's, well, _Logan._ "But doc, the concussion testing is-"

"It's not a picnic for me either, Logan, but I'll be damned if I have a Sidney Crosby or Jonathan Toews on my hands," she snaps back. She'd been absolutely bewildered and furious during those incidents. It is completely beyond her how a team's medical staff could allow something so serious to just slide under their noses – but then again, she has her doubts about the entire Penguins' medical staff since they allowed seemingly half the team to contract the goddamn _mumps._

Still, the league got its act together and today the concussion protocols are extensive enough to make even someone as picky as Betty happy. But she still resigns herself to several hours of testing, and texts Christine to just make sure that she takes her stuff to the airplane tomorrow. Logan will probably be fine, but she's going to keep him in the hospital (and her, by extension), just to be on the safe side.

Just another day on the job, she thinks wearily as they pull up in front of the emergency room entrance. But she wouldn't change a goddamn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am decidedly not a doctor (not that kind, and not yet, haha), so all medical errors are entirely my own. Arizona Coyotes' rookie Max Domi does have a diabetic assistance dog named Orion, so that's definitely true to life.
> 
> Thanks to lawgeeks for betaing, as always!


	3. Kate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate Bishop is Pepper Potts, Version 2.0.

"It's been a passion of mine for as long as I can remember," Steve says, staring into the camera earnestly. "My mom had a rooftop garden when I was a kid. It was hard for her, a widow, single mom with a sickly kid who wanted to play hockey. Growing our own vegetables was one of the only ways to get by." The reporter and the people assembled around him are eating it all up, of course. Steve is notoriously private about his personal life and this kind of information doesn't come out easily.

"He's unreal," Kate says under her breath, shaking her head.

Clint slings an arm around her shoulders. "That's Steve Rogers, Katie-girl."

He's lucky there are so many people around right now, otherwise she'd elbow him pretty hard in the side. "I'm in college now, Barton, I'm pretty sure you can stop calling me that." She glances slightly over at him and huh, it's a little weird that they're the same height now. "Besides, shouldn't you be in Hell's Kitchen with the other group?"

"And miss my best girl during one of the few times she's in town? You're joking."

"Barton, I'm at Princeton, I'm here all the time."

"And I'm a hockey player who's either away or playing a game seventy-five percent of the time when you're here," he reminds her. "Indulge me."

She rolls her eyes, but is secretly pleased because she knows Christine and Darcy are handling the event in Hell's Kitchen, and Clint's feelings for Darcy are pretty clear. Their dance is pretty adorable but if it stretches out any longer she's going to do something drastic. "You could have brought Lucky."

"Lucky would have dug up all the plants in this place and you know it. Or at least peed on half of them. Steve would actually murder me and then Nat would be without a defensive partner. I couldn't do that to the Knights!"

He's exaggerating, of course. Lucky could and would tear up the garden given the opportunity, but Nat would probably kill Steve before he had a chance to kill Clint. Tangling with Nat makes everyone, even Steve, hesitate. Nat's awesome.

Kate just kicks his shin, ignoring his faux-wounded face, and scoots a little closer as the interview moves on. "Word is that you have a substantial rooftop garden of your own in Brooklyn, Steve."

"He calls it his Victory Garden, the nerd!" Bucky calls as he walks by with a wheelbarrow full of rich, black planting soil. He, like all of the Knights and volunteers, is wearing a t-shirt that says _A Garden Grows in New York_ , but he's also sporting a floppy straw hat and bright crimson Crocs. The crowd breaks into giggles and Steve's ears grow red.

"Buck's not really allowed to say anything, he grew up eating from my ma's garden as well."

The reporter pounces on that tidbit. "And your mother is here today to support your efforts for A Garden Grows in New York. Can you tell us about this organization and what it means to you?"

His eyes light up. "Well, A Garden Grows in New York is so many things in one. It's a green initiative, it's about urban renewal, and it's about community health, which are all things I'm really passionate about. By bringing back gardens, whether they're private gardens or community ones, we're bringing in green spaces that can help bring life back to tired, run-down, polluted parts of the city. At the same time, we're supporting the community by growing crops locally, which makes healthy food so much more accessible for those who aren't able to afford it, like I was."

There's a tap on her shoulder and Kate turns around to find Pepper beckoning. She nudges Clint's shoulder in apology and steps away. It's a little surreal to see Pepper in jeans, one of the organization's t-shirts, and comfortable gardening boots, but then, she was one of Steve's first converts to the urban gardening movement. Kate knows for a fact that Pepper delights in her little rooftop herb and flower garden. Kate, unfortunately, has black thumbs but even she manages to keep her little succulent garden alive at her place in Princeton.

"I'm so glad you were able to make it back for this, Kate." Pepper folds her in a hug, one that Kate doesn't hesitate to return.

"How could I, when it's almost my baby as much as it's Steve's?" She is, after all, the one who introduced Steve to donors, helped him form a board of directors, and started wrangling the city officials when it came time to get permits and permissions. And this was all while juggling a full college course load and a hockey schedule.

It was all thanks to Pepper. Kate had been a little…adrift, to say the least, in high school. Boredom, cynicism, and a real lack of belonging had made her volatile and her family's money gave her unlimited access to just about everything that was bad for her. She'd hit rock bottom quite spectacularly at the ripe old age of seventeen. The worst of it was a DUI and because Kate never did anything halfway, she'd also faced possible drug possession charges.

Her father could have done anything after getting the drug charges dropped. He could have let her go to juvie. He could have sent her to rehab or boarding school in Timbuktu. But no. He sat her down and offered her one last chance: work with Pepper Potts and remain in school. As far as his reasoning went, from one socialite to another, they could make it work.

Pepper, being Pepper, took to being saddled with a mouthy seventeen-year-old surprisingly well. She didn't treat it as a mentorship, but an internship, and dragged Kate along with her on all manner of Knights' business. She gave Kate real work rather than just sticking her behind a desk answering phones. Kate sat in on all of Pepper's meetings and took notes, both for Pepper and herself because Pepper could and would ask her questions afterwards. She was genuinely interested in Kate's opinion, never mind that Kate had no experience whatsoever.

But she'd _learned._ And engaged. Soon, she was spending all of her free time at the Knights' offices, when she wasn't in school or doing her community service.

It was on one of those occasions that she met Clint Barton for the first time.

_The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Kate was promptly attacked by a dog. She reacted rather predictably._

_"Doggy!" she squealed, dropping her backpack to the floor and dropping to her knees. She was immediately showered in ecstatic doggy kisses. Honestly. Best. Day. Ever._

_"Awwww, Lucky, no!" A man came jogging around the corner. "I know everyone loves you here, but you can't keep doing that!"_

_"It's okay," Kate said, getting back to her feet as the golden retriever bounded back to its owner, tongue lolling out in a canine grin. "I don't mind."_

_"I'm glad, and most people don't. But I'm trying to make sure that he has_ some _manners." He held out a hand. "You're Pepper's new assistant, right? Bishop?"_

_Assistant. She liked that. Not pet project, as was being bandied about by the members of Kate's former circle. Whatever. They were petty, small-minded, and jealous because they weren't working with a team that had just won the Stanley Cup. She didn't need those kind of people in her life, not that they had been true friends in the first place._

_"Kate, yeah. And you're Clint Barton." Because of course she had the Knights' roster memorized. The Commandos' too, but who was keeping track?_

_"Yup! And you've already met Lucky. Nice to meet you, Kate."_

He ended up taking her under his wing every bit as much as Pepper, becoming her older brother and platonic soulmate if there ever was such a thing. Because of them, her life completely changed.

Being around the Knights was a revelation. Somehow, the team and staff banded around her to form some screwy, hockey-obsessed family, reigniting Kate's own love for the sport. She's played her share of sports and was even on her school's hockey team as a freshman, but never put any interest or effort into it. Clint, though – Clint taught her how to take her shooting skills to another level, and as a defenseman, taught her all the best tricks to wheel around them. He was the one who encouraged her to try out for the team again her senior year, and had gone absolutely bananas when she received a conditional spot on the roster. Before long, she'd worked her way to the first line and was getting attention from scouts.

Between them, Pepper and the Knights taught her to love hockey again. They gave her purpose and direction.

Kate loves playing – she wouldn't be at Princeton on a hockey scholarship otherwise – but it's the business side of running a hockey team that calls to her. That, again, is all Pepper. She and Kate don't have to work if they don't want to, but hockey isn't work. Hockey is _hockey_ , an obsession, a passion, and honestly, Kate can no longer imagine a future without it.

When she officially became Pepper's intern her freshman year of college, she began laying the groundwork for today's event. Perhaps it's a cliché, the socialite doing charity work, but Kate can't think of anything more important than using what she's been given to give back to others. Working with the Knights taught her that, too.

"Keep this up and you definitely will have a place waiting for you here once you graduate," Pepper says with a proud grin. "That is, unless you're going for the NHL."

Kate laughs outright at that one. The thought has never even crossed her mind, even with such shining examples as Maria and Natasha in front of her. "Me, in the NHL? No thank you, I'd be fighting more than I'd be playing. Besides, I think I've got my eyes on the NWHL." She's seen the league grow from fledgling idea to full-blown inception, and she wants to have a hand in growing it further.

"Oh?" The older woman looks entirely pleased. "And if you ended up on, say, the Riveters?"

"Then I would absolutely come on board as your charity liaison." In fact, she's counting on it. It's the best of both worlds, playing hockey and doing charitable work.

But first, she needs to get through the day. She turns back to the interviews and makes sure that the interviewers have equal opportunity to talk to the mayor, Sarah Rogers, and some of the community members and volunteers before she motions for Steve to go ahead with the ribbon-cutting.

Kate spends a lot of time running around. There's press to carefully herd, volunteers to look after, and hockey players to wrangle. Luckily the mayor leaves after the ribbon-cutting so she doesn't have to deal with hand-shaking for too long, but then there's catering to coordinate so that no one gets too hungry or thirsty under the unseasonably hot spring sun. On top of that, she's taking pictures and videos for Darcy to approve and post later for the Knights.

"Bucky's not allowed to garden without supervision," she overhears Steve tell a bunch of giggling schoolchildren. "Once he was helping me with the weeding and he pulled out a carrot instead. I never forgave him."

"I can't hear you over the words, 'Victory Garden,'" Bucky snarks back. But his hands are extremely gentle as he lays out the soil for the plantings.

On the other side of the garden, Clint and Sam are helping some of the older volunteers take care of the fruit trees that are being planted right along the fence.

"Aren't you afraid some people will just reach in and take the fruit?" one of them asks Sam.

He shakes his head. "No, in fact, Steve wants people to do that, especially if they're hungry. Better fruit than something really bad for you, don't you think?"

The teenager who asked the question looks at the fence line. "How many trees do you think we can plant here?" he asks. Neither he nor Sam spot the camera crew filming silently nearby, but Kate does. That's definitely something that should end up on the evening news, she thinks with satisfaction.

Clint laughs. "Oh, we'll get as many as we can along here, don't worry."

"We just have to make sure not to overcrowd them," Sam cautions.

"Yeah, your bonsais taught you that?"

Sam flushes when a bunch of their volunteers press on him to elaborate. "So, y'all know I'm roommates with Steve and Bucky, right? Well, Steve got me into the whole gardening thing too, but I discovered that I really like working with bonsai trees." He proceeds to go into an entire lecture about bonsai history and cultivation as they begin going down the line planting trees. His audience is completely captivated, and even Kate lingers for a time. Sam has a way of imparting information in a way that is completely interesting and relatable.

In another section of the garden, Sarah is showing another group how to strategically plant their vegetables. "There are ways to group the plants that help eliminate space – which is important when you have a small space – and to also deter pests. We don't want to use pesticides here, so sometimes the best way is Mother Nature's way," she explains, before showing them how she's grouped the onions, carrots, and cabbages around the tomatoes.

In yet another section, Maria, like Sam, is also giving an impromptu history lesson alongside the planting. "In North America, corn, beans, and squash were called the Three Sisters because of the way they grow and thrive together. Corn provides a place for the beans' vines to climb without poles, the beans provide essential nitrogen for the soil, while the squash covers the ground to prevent weeds from growing and retains moisture for the ground." She pauses and looks down at her group, most of them girls between the ages of six and sixteen. "Just these three things together provide complete nutrition within a plant-based diet, in case anyone was wondering. But between you and me, I still really like cheese and bacon."

Their giggles echo across the lot, and Kate turns around to see Steve giving Maria cow eyes. Honestly, those two.

A hand touches her elbow. "Hey Kate, just wanted to let you know that we're packing up."

She turns to smile at Miles. He's one of her closest friends in the organization, even if he does keep a closer eye on the Kiss Cam than she would like. "Got your footage already?"

He nods. "Parker and I are satisfied with what we have, so we're going to head over and catch the other half of the team in Hell's Kitchen. Props to you, this is one hell of an event."

"When I was a kid, I wanted to save the world." This isn't something she's confessed to anyone other than Pepper or Clint, but she has a feeling that Miles understands. "I like to think this is one way of going about it."

"One garden at a time seems like a pretty good start to me." He grins and hefts his bag over his shoulder. "See you at the captain's later?"

"Like I'd miss it!" She loves hanging out with the team and she's not going to pass up a chance to talk shop with Maria. They have a big game against Harvard coming up and she wants some opinions.

He bumps fists with her. "Cool."

"Bye, Katie-girl!" Ian hauls her off her feet. "We'll see you at your next home game, all right?"

Her cheering section, when the Knights' scheduling is obliging, is the envy of everyone at Princeton. Kate _loves_ it. "More glitter on my sign next time, all right?"

"You got it!"

Kate grins and waves them away.

She loves her crazy hockey family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arden Cho is my Kate Bishop. And yes, A Garden Grows in New York is most certainly a riff on A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
> 
> Thanks to Kavi Leighanna for troubleshooting, and tielan and InitialA for headcanoning about urban gardener!Steve Rogers with me.

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! I thought I'd start with Darcy because I love her. Let me know if there are any particular scenarios or people you want to see in action, and I will do my best!
> 
> Please note that I have absolutely no idea how to run a hockey team and everything I have learned, I've learned from articles, documentaries, and NHL clips. If you do have experience with these things, please drop me a line - I'd love to pick your brain!
> 
> As always, I'm available to scream about this universe and anything else you fancy on [tumblr](http://somanyfandomssolittletime.tumblr.com)


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